


clout

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Bloodline - Claudia Gray
Genre: First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Party, Politics, Pre-Star Wars: Bloodline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: Finally, the man said, “Ransolm Casterfo. It is an honor, sir. The work you’ve done over the years…”Lando lifted his hand; he’d heard a variation on these words for years. He didn’t care to hear them now. “I know rather enough about myself,” he said, playing it for laughs, not in the least surprised when he got laughs out of everyone. “I was hoping you might tell me about yourself.”





	clout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowmaat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/gifts).



Lando didn’t often go through the trouble of attending New Republic functions any longer. There really was no point. Few enough in the Core cared about Bespin or about Calrissian Enterprises and that suited Lando just fine right now. Squabbling with senators. Bowing and scraping for their attention. It wasn’t his idea of a good time on the best of days and as he grew older, he disdained it all the more. Jockeying for positions and power was a younger man’s game and Lando was finally just as established as he wanted or needed to be. Calrissian Enterprises was successful in the private sector. If the New Republic wished to engage his services, they could come to him.

But every once in a while, Leia or Han managed to lay on a guilt trip thick enough to bring him to Chandrila for one of these boring soirees. He tried not to hate them for it or hate himself even worse for falling for it. They could, he felt, at least hold them on Canto Bight where Lando might have a little fun at the expense of the rich, silly locals who wouldn’t know a proper scam if it stared them in the face. It wasn’t that he disliked Chandrila; it was just such an insular little planet full of insular politicians. Not fun in the slightest.

Perhaps that was why the man standing in the corner drew so much of his attention as he scanned the room. Of course, good-looking men generally did grab his eye, but there was something like a sense of fellowship that flickered to life in Lando’s chest as he watched the man attempt to hold court with a small number of fellow politicos. They must’ve been junior senators at the most. Or, more likely, aides. They had that hungry look about them. Especially the man who’d caught Lando’s eye first and foremost. But there was a tentativeness there, too, an uncertainty. The people around him didn’t seem to notice it, but one day, they would. Someone ought to tell him.

That someone shouldn’t have been Lando, but he found himself drawn anyway. He could be someone one day. Lando saw that potential. And there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he would one day reach that point. The mercenary part of Lando’s mind thought that would be useful. The rest of him merely wanted to see a hungry, fresh face succeed against the sea of old, haggard miens around him.

Lando’s exempted, of course. He remained far more in touch with the reality of the galaxy as it was than a lot of these beings around him. They were still caught in the Rebellion days, the Empire days. They didn’t see what was going on around them.

“—find it entirely possible to work with the Populists on this matter. All it would require—” The man’s voice was pleasant, cool like water, far more in control than his eyes and the fidgeting twist of his hands suggested. Oh, yes. He had potential. He just didn’t know how to use it yet. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed Lando approaching, but he dipped his head in greeting almost as quickly. “Oh, hello. General Calrissian, I believe?”

If Lando liked the shape of his own name in the man’s mouth, he didn’t have to admit as much. Or perhaps he would if he could peel the man away from the retinue of people surrounding him. Sometimes, he enjoyed sharing his compliments with those he liked. And sometimes, it was better keeping that interest to himself. But he suspected the man’s cheeks would warm beautifully and if the man wasn’t interested in anything, a night out, some dinner and dancing, maybe more, maybe less, that would be just fine. “It is indeed,” he answered, all smiles, making sure to include the individuals arrayed around him so as not to pointlessly alienate them. They, as expected, accepted the charming smile for what it was and felt themselves a part of something. His name still had cachet. Lando intended to keep it that way. “But I’m afraid I don’t know yours.” He gestured around them both. “Or those of your compatriots.”

They fell over themselves for the chance to answer, but the man remained quiet, waited patiently for the opportune moment. He was good. Untested, untrained, but good. And from the sound of his words, a Centrist.

He’d give Leia a run for her money one day, Lando wagered.

Finally, the man said, “Ransolm Casterfo. It is an honor, sir. The work you’ve done over the years…”

Lando lifted his hand; he’d heard a variation on these words for years. He didn’t care to hear them now. “I know rather enough about myself,” he said, playing it for laughs, not in the least surprised when he got laughs out of everyone. “I was hoping you might tell me about yourself.”

He had to give it to Casterfo’s friends or colleagues or whatever they were: they weren’t the dullest people he’d ever come across. Exchanging glances and jostled elbows, they all of them found reasons to disburse, leaving Lando alone with the sole object of his attention.

“I’m afraid I’m of little interest to anyone,” Casterfo said. “A Senate aide from Riosa currently. Nothing more.”

Now it was Lando’s turn to try controlling his own reactions. He wouldn’t necessarily have expected anyone from Riosa to show Centrist leanings. And he suspected Casterfo wouldn’t be particularly favored there if he became a senator. But the galaxy was full of strange people with strange beliefs and it wasn’t as though Lando was particularly well versed in the politics of worlds so very far from Bespin and the Anoat sector at large. And it’d been years since he’d heard any tales of Riosa at all.

Things sometimes changed. Very rarely, he’d found, but he supposed it was possible.

“Not everything has to be about what your job is,” Lando said, discarding the unusualness of Casterfo’s political leanings. He had his reasons for it and it wasn’t any of Lando’s business anyway, not this early in their acquaintance.

“On Chandrila?” Casterfo asked, arch, his tone belying a subtle cynicism that Lando found charming despite himself. Almost everyone who surrounded Casterfo on a daily basis wanted to know exactly how they’d be able to use him. Lando didn’t need that crutch. He also didn’t particularly want to use Casterfo, though he never denied that the bonds of friendship could be powerful.

Lando laughed and waved back toward the bar. “Even on Chandrila. Can I buy you a drink? Or perhaps that’s too forward?” He flashed another grin. “I did rather rudely interrupt the conversation you were having.” And Lando would have done it again if he had the opportunity. It wouldn’t be the last time Casterfo would be allowed to espouse at length about his beliefs. But this might be the only time Lando got to meet him and make a good impression. Better to take the chance than be too polite. “I apologize for that.”

Casterfo batted aside the apology with a sharp gesture. “It’s nothing they haven’t heard before,” he replied, smiling a pretty, crooked smile of self-reproach. “In fact, they were probably tired of it. In a way, you saved them from me.” Another crooked smile, this time rueful and accompanied by the slightest of eye rolls, good natured and self-aware. “However can I repay you?”

They didn’t seem tired of it, but that was a conversation for another day. If they became friends, perhaps Lando would tell him about the effect he had. Until that time, he’d keep his mouth shut though it amused him terribly that Casterfo didn’t quite understand his own powers yet, his skills. The Riosans really needed to work a little harder on nurturing their future leaders if this was what they churned out. They did good, but they could do so much better.

“You could let me buy you a drink, Mr. Casterfo,” Lando said, pleased to have such a smooth transition into just the topic he wanted to discuss instead. And from the ripple of relief and pleasure that crossed Casterfo’s face, it seemed like Lando hadn’t entirely missed his mark. That was gratifying to know. It was always possible he’d lost a bit of his intuition, his skill at figuring out what other people wanted and needed. Staying out of the politics game, he could’ve gotten rusty. But not tonight.

Tonight, Casterfo shook his head and said, “A drink would be lovely. And please, call me Ransolm. Mr. Casterfo sounds so formal for a night such as this.”

“Ransolm, then.” If he’d liked the sound of his own name in Ransolm’s mouth, he equally enjoyed speaking Ransolm’s in return. And he liked the way Ransolm relaxed just a little bit more as well. “I know a few places nearby that are quite nice, though we can stay here if you’d prefer, of course. I know the staff well enough that I might be able to wring a decent drink out of them if I ask very nicely.”

“I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery,” Ransolm admitted, and that was an even better answer than Lando was expecting. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.” When Lando pressed his hand against Ransolm’s lower back, Ransolm seemed almost to lean toward it, lean close. It sent a pulse of warmth through Lando at the possibilities. If drinks went well, who knew? Perhaps an entire evening of enjoyable activities were in store for them. The thought made Lando happy, gave him a giddy edge that he stifled out of long practice, years of it. He’d always enjoyed the chase, making people happy, showing them a good time and having a good time in return. “Come,” he said, “let’s get that drink.”

Nodding, Ransolm headed toward the exit, Lando practically plastered to his side.

And Lando wasn’t wrong; they did have a very good time. Good enough that Lando found reasons to come to these parties Leia kept inviting him to.

He couldn’t say he regretted doing that at all.


End file.
